On the Threshold
by GHTlovesTHG
Summary: A fic in honor of Katniss' birthday. Nineteen and free from the Reapings forever, Katniss finds a token on her doorstep commemorating her passage over the threshold of adulthood. Discovering the identity of the sender will start Katniss on a road that leads toward another of life's milestones. Canon-deviating/Canon-divergent story.
1. Lintel

_This little fic is inspired by several things. First, the desire to give Katniss a cupcake on her birthday, along with a little happiness. Also, the lovely May Day tradition of anonymously leaving flower baskets on doorsteps provided major inspiration for the whole plot._

_Sadly, I will not be able to post the entire piece today, as I'd hoped - RL has me quite tied up at the moment. The whole tale is planned out, short and uneventful as it is, so happiness shall follow in not too long! I hope you all enjoy! :) And thank you to my amazing beta The RPGenius, for editing this at the drop of a hat!_

* * *

**On the Threshold**

_"This would have happened anyway" - Mockingjay, page 388_

The cupcake, with its cheery pastel frosting, looked as alien and out of place on her doorstep as Effie Trinket looked standing onstage amidst a sea of miners and their families on Reaping Day.

The dreaded event was little more than a month away. And for the first time in seven years, Katniss would not be standing with her peers, roped in at the center of the square like so much livestock awaiting slaughter.

As of today, she was nineteen.

For Katniss, the fact that she'd avoided the Games was less cause for celebration than most others would find it. She still had to worry about Prim. And truth be told, she'd rather she was still eligible to be reaped than have Prim's slips in that bowl for any more years. So she hadn't really considered the milestone she'd reached, the threshold she'd crossed upon waking up this morning.

Still, she was free of the Games. Safe. Or as safe as one _could _be, in Panem.

She hadn't thought the day a particularly special one, and she definitely didn't mention it's significance to anyone. It might have slipped her mind, but for the solitary cupcake sitting on her doorstep.

Someone knew it was her birthday. And it mattered to them.

Katniss crouched down and regarded it thoughtfully. Usually, she'd be incensed to be offered a handout. But it couldn't be charity. It was too whimsical and far too indulgent on behalf of the giver to be mistaken for anything she _needed_.

A small part of her liked the idea of receiving a little unexpected gift. She hadn't had many pleasant surprises of this nature since before her father died, and the remembrance made the years between stand out starkly in her mind.

It was, after all, completely unsolicited, she reminded herself as she gingerly picked up the confection. That fact made quite a difference, enough for her to accept the little treat- with the promise to find and repay the giver in some small way, of course. Katniss wasn't going to owe anyone if she could help it, not even for a birthday present.

She examined the sweet in her hand. It was perfect in detail, right down to the exquisite trio of petals on the brushed sugar katniss bloom, resting delicately atop rosy icing.

The cupcake was heavier than it looked, and Katniss could only imagine the dense richness of the cake. Something like this was a once in a lifetime opportunity; she'd certainly never have extra for custom-made desserts.

Any time there was a treat to find enjoyment in, Prim got first pick of the object, at Katniss' insistence. But in this case, Katniss wanted to be a little selfish just for once, and be the one to take the first bite. It was a childish notion, and today she was leaving childhood behind. Of course, Katniss hadn't been a child for over seven years, ever since the mines took her father's life. She'd had to grow up and into his role as leader of their family when it was clear her mother wouldn't provide for them. But nonetheless, she would be officially recognized as an adult from this day forward, so any small way to pay homage to the small scrap of childhood she'd enjoyed was welcome.

Being careful to avoid the perfect flower, Katniss took a generous bite, reveling in the decadence of the gesture. She closed her eyes and held back a moan. It was moist and dense: heaven, pure and simple.

Softly re-entering the house, she gently set the cupcake on the table. As she was fetching a bowl to cover it, so Buttercup wouldn't eat any before Prim had gotten a taste, she made a decision.

Grabbing a clean dishrag, she returned to the kitchen table. Ever so carefully, Katniss removed the solid sugar flower, a confection in itself, from the swirled tower of frosting. She laid it carefully in the center of the rag and with the edges of the material enfolded it, before tucking it softly into her coat pocket.

The cupcake had clearly been a special request, if it bore her namesake. Aside from her family and Gale's, neither of which possessed the means to purchase such a luxury, who in District 12 would even know what a katniss bloom looked like?

There was only one hand capable of creating such finery, and it was that of the baker, Mr. Mellark. She'd often admired his work in the bakery windows, at Prim's insistence. It was what passed for art in District Twelve. She'd ask him who'd commissioned the treat when she traded with him later today.

Plan in place, Katniss left again for the woods, the pleasant puzzle of the cupcake's source flitting through her mind.

* * *

She rapped smartly on the baker's back door. When Mr. Mellark answered, Katniss gave him her most winning smile before she displayed the squirrels she'd bagged that morning.

He was one of the few merchant clients Katniss really liked, and he was always gratifyingly appreciative of her hunting skills. Once the standard trade had been conducted, she pulled the small, protected bundle from her coat pocket.

"Mr. Mellark, I found a cupcake with this candy flower on my doorstep this morning."

Mr. Mellark looked pleasantly surprised, and Katniss wondered for a moment that he hadn't said anything in observance of her birthday yet. He surely remembered having made the cupcake, and he was the sort of friendly soul who would always wish a happy birthday when he could, despite the fact that happy days were few and far between in District 12. "Could you please tell me who commissioned it from you?"

A knowing look entered his eyes, and his big shoulders shook as he chuckled.

"Well, I can say for sure I've never seen that before, Katniss, so I'm afraid I can't answer your question. But I know who can."

And with a heavy arm around her shoulders, the baker briskly swept her under the lintel of the door and into the warm, golden kitchen.

There was a high workspace at the center of the room, made of thick oak polished to a gleaming gold. It was covered in flour, dough, and baking implements. Standing directly behind the island was the baker's youngest son, blond, stocky, and all too familiar. She'd never imagined it was he who decorated the cakes.

Katniss' breath caught. They'd never spoken, though she'd always been aware of him since that day, eight years ago. His rosy skin shone with a light sheen of sweat in the warm kitchen, and his tousled hair, slightly frizzy in the muggy room, curled closely around his ears and collar. He belonged in this space, fit in a way that was plain to see just looking at him. It was a reassuring image, and Katniss wondered if she looked similar when in the woods.

"Peeta?" Mr. Mellark's jovial voice boomed. "Someone's here to see you."

The boy in question raised his head, his startled blue eyes landing on Katniss. When she saw recognition in his eyes, she also noted apprehension shimmering there like ripples over a deep pool. He looked nervous. Peeta had a little smudge of flour on his lower left cheek, and Katniss madly entertained the notion of brushing it from his skin. Would it be warm? Soft, or rough with stubble?

As they took each other in, Katniss felt a gentle pressure at her back, a distant distraction she stepped forward to alleviate. Having ushered Katniss in Peeta's direction, Mr. Mellark made himself scarce.

"C-Can I help you?" Peeta managed politely. Katniss nodded, and gathering her wits, reached forward to place the candy flower and towel on the work table.

"Do you know who ordered this?" she asked quietly.

Peeta stared down at the object before him. His cheeks were getting rosier with every moment, making the bit of flour stand out starkly against his heated skin. It was as though he was frozen in place, unmoving, save for the intake of breath that expanded his chest. But, she noticed, he held it, and was completely still in contemplation of the object.

"You made this?" she prompted. Peeta nodded hesitantly, his eyes flickering across the counter to her hands, still not quite able to meet her eyes. "At the request of whom?" she urged.

Finally, Peeta met her regard, a worried, vulnerable expression in his own. He seemed almost to be pleading with her, but she couldn't understand why. Why wouldn't he just _tell _her? She didn't want to bother him any more than he wanted to be bothered. She was clearly upsetting him, but if he just answered, she could be on her way.

"I didn't think anyone in Twelve knew what katniss looked like," she elaborated. "But this is perfect. Did they describe it to you?"

His eyes returned to the work surface. Peeta studied the dough in front of him before responding. "Um, no." He began determinedly rolling out the shapeless lump with a wooden rolling pin, but his movements no longer seemed as sure. Katniss was about to insist he stop ignoring her when he cast a fleeting glance over to the side of the room, almost as if involuntarily. She almost missed it, but she followed the trajectory his gaze had taken. Sitting against the wall on a shelf filled with bowls of all sizes, were two books. One was very old and well-used, untitled, and had bits of paper sticking out between the pages. Katniss hazarded a guess that it was the family's book of recipes. Next to it, however, was a slightly newer book entitled _Flora of Panem: A Compendium._

That must have been Peeta's reference for the decorations on the commissioned cupcake. She'd never seen any sort of representation of a katniss flower before today, just the real thing. Katniss wanted to see the entry for her namesake.

She walked boldly over to the shelf and pulled down the book. Normally she'd never be so brazen in another's home and business, but being ignored by Peeta was making her feel strangely incensed, and something was telling her she should see the page on her flower. Peripherally, she heard Peeta make some token objection once he realized her intention, but it was too late: she was already flipping through the index by the time he'd made a sound. She turned back to the colorful pages devoted to water plants, but the page on katniss was missing. She could see the rough edge where it had been before someone tore it out. Like they'd kept it for themselves.

Katniss' eyes lifted to Peeta's. He stood there helplessly, like cornered prey, as pieces started clicking into place in her mind. If there was no reference page on katniss flowers, Peeta must have already known what they looked like when he made the cupcake. He couldn't have gone outside the district, so he must have seen the missing page. Had he been the one to take it? Judging by the expression on his face, she felt he had. But why?

"No one commissioned it. It was you," she realized. Katniss could see she was right. Peeta looked on, watchful, hopeful.

Katniss shook her head in denial. "No!" This couldn't be happening again. He'd tricked her. Now she owed him even more. She would forever.

And what had his intention been? To remind her of all that was yet unpaid? She could have accepted the gift from _anyone _else, just this once, on the most important birthday of her life, but not from him. Not from Peeta. Now it was just another line item in the ledger of her insurmountable debt, and she'd walked right into the whole situation.

She hadn't needed it. So why did he have to offer it at all? Why couldn't he just ignore her, why did that day always have to linger in his glances? She put the book back on the shelf as though it was a treacherous object, as though the whole room was one giant snare waiting to entrap her, and she'd unwittingly picked up the triggering mechanism. She looked at the perfect sugar sculpture, sitting innocently on the edge of work table.

"I don't want it," she said solemnly, raising her eyes to his. "Not from you."

He looked shattered, and opened his mouth to protest or explain, but she couldn't bear it. She grabbed her game bag and dashed from the kitchen, her braid flying out behind her.

Dusk found her angrily chucking rocks and pebbles at the tree in the meadow. She felt humiliated and restless and foolish. She just wanted to forget about that day in the rain, forget about that whole year and her eleven year old self. She never would though, and somehow she'd held Peeta responsible.

He'd probably just meant it as a nice gesture. Maybe he looked at her as some sort of little pet project, some success story of his. He had saved her, after all. Maybe he was trying to kindly emphasize how far she'd come. Ironically, it was the remembrance of katniss, of finding herself, that had saved her, and he'd inspired it, a fact he'd unknowingly commemorated on that cupcake. A tiny corner of her mind wondered if it could indicate anything more than just well-meaning kindness. She thought of that missing page in his book and got flustered and uncomfortable all over again.

As she angrily fumbled for the next stone, she inadvertently yanked up a dandelion along with it. She hurled both toward the tree, but the flower landed little more than a foot and half from where she'd thrown it.

It wasn't a pretty dandelion. It was sparse, and half-closed, and about to go to seed. Nevertheless, she felt remorseful and stretched to pick it back up. Idiotically, she felt like she had to make it up to the weed, and carefully tucked the pathetic bloom in the buttonhole of her father's hunting jacket.

She didn't know why she'd overreacted like that at the bakery, didn't _want _to know why, but she couldn't take it back.

* * *

Prim loved the cupcake. She raved about it for days. Katniss told her the baker had given it to her as an afterthought during an early morning trade, knowing it was her birthday. Without the flower on top, it looked like any other cupcake from Mellark's.

Katniss felt wretched for a week, but wouldn't entertain any explanations other than the richness of the cupcake disagreeing with her.

Charmed at the baker's supposed gesture and finally knowing what cake tasted like inspired a renewed interest in the bakery's window displays for Prim. Katniss had been relieved when she'd seemed to be growing out of it before, but now Prim was forever dragging her to the plate glass windows of Mellark's Bakery again.

Katniss couldn't be sure if she was imagining it or not, but she thought the cake decorations seemed a bit lacking recently. It had only been a few weeks since her birthday, but they just felt…uninspired, compared to what they used to be.

A knot of guilt settled in her stomach when she imagined she might be responsible, and Katniss irrationally worried that Prim would notice the change in artistry on the cakes and somehow sense her sister was to blame.

Aside from stolen glances, Katniss studiously avoided looking past the displays and into the bakery. Those covert looks were enough to tell her that Peeta usually left the front of the store to go out back after she and Prim approached the windows.

In late summer, after the Reaping and Games had held the nation captive yet again, Delly Cartwright got married. As a merchant daughter, she got a proper wedding cake, and it was common knowledge that the youngest Mellark was pulling out all the stops for his childhood friend. Recognizing an opportunity for a little added publicity, Mrs. Mellark insisted Peeta decorate it in the front window of the shop, and little clusters of people would come and watch his meticulous, patient piping.

The finished product sat proudly in the window the day before the toasting ceremony, and it was the finest creation anyone had seen from Mellark's. It spilled over with floral embellishment, each exquisite sugar flower looking like it had just been plucked from the forest.

There were so many types, Katniss wondered if he'd used the whole flower book as reference. But there were no katniss blooms.

As Prim _oohed_ and _aahed_ at the window, Katniss saw Delly enter the family establishment. The vivacious girl waited at the counter as one of Peeta's older brothers fetched him from the back, and she threw her arms around her friend as soon as his tired form appeared. Delly laughed and swayed, and happiness radiated from Peeta as he got caught up in the bride-to-be's joy.

It was hard to imagine that Peeta could ever have been truly upset that she'd rejected his gift. Katniss wondered at the inexplicable sinking feeling the thought brought her.

Accordingly, the decorative work at the bakery was back to its original standards of excellence. Whatever had been affecting Peeta's work before was doing so no longer.

As Katniss lay in bed at night, flirting with the fringes of slumber, she often got the feeling that she'd missed something important, that something essential and irreplaceable had slipped through her grasp somewhere. When startled awake by the thought, she reminded herself that besides Prim, there was little of value in her life that she could lose and not notice.

* * *

Katniss came face-to-face with Peeta again when the Harvest Festival rolled around. It had been a big year for the wild turkey population and she and Gale had made out like bandits. All the merchants were eager for a bountiful table, and they'd quickly sold all the birds they'd bagged at top dollar.

As a result, after replenishing the necessities, Katniss had a little more to spend on Prim than usual at the festival this year. Perhaps remembering the delights of the cupcake, Prim decided she'd like nothing so much as an apple dumpling, the Mellark's signature harvest-time specialty. Neither Everdeen girl had ever tasted one, and hearing they had a little extra to spend, Prim declared that this was the year that would change.

Unable to think about the gooey apples encased in cinnamon-brushed dough without also imagining the skilled hands that had potentially made them, Katniss couldn't find it in herself to be anything but uncomfortable about the idea. But she pretended to be excited for Prim's sake.

True to prediction, when they reached the little stand arranged by the Mellark family, it was Peeta filling orders, while his mother collected the money.

Katniss' distaste for his mother and the awkwardness of her last encounter with Peeta was almost enough to make her turn around and walk in the other direction. But she didn't, for her sister. She did, however, slow her steps so Prim led the way. No shame in that.

"Hi!" Prim said excitedly when they'd reached the stand. Mrs. Mellark, who'd always disliked Katniss (for rooting around in her trash that day, she supposed), also seemed to find fault with Prim, for some unknown reason, because she turned away with a superior sniff and moue of displeasure.

Prim, who never knew the exact events surrounding the two charred loaves that saved them, seemed a little taken aback, but rallied and turned to Peeta. He looked apologetic and beat her to the greeting.

"Hi, Prim," he said warmly.

"You know my name?" she asked, puzzled.

Peeta darted a nervous look at Katniss, the first eye contact he'd made with her since they'd approached the stand. "Shouldn't I?" he asked uncertainly.

"Of course!" Prim chirped, in her friendly way, "It's only…I don't know yours."

"Peeta," he confirmed, with a glowing smile in Prim's direction. It was so stunning, Katniss felt warmer just standing in its periphery.

When Mrs. Mellark huffed her impatience from the other end of the stand, Peeta schooled his features and got down to business. "What can I get you Prim? And, ah…"

Misinterpreting his hesitance to address the darker Everdeen girl, Prim hastened to introduce them. "Oh! This is Katniss, my sister!"

Peeta mumbled an inane, "nice to meet you" to the ground while Katniss growled, "He _knows _what my name is!" to an unwitting Prim.

Wisely overlooking the odd exchange, the youngest Everdeen pushed onward. "We'd like an apple dumpling please!"

Peeta regained his sunny demeanor in the face of Prim's obvious anticipation, and selected the biggest apple dumpling with a piece of wax paper. But Prim had one last bomb to drop.

"We're so excited to try it, after your dad gave Katniss that cupcake for her birthday!"

Peeta faltered and the dumpling tumbled to the ground. Prim made a small exclamation of dismay.

Their dumpling lay on the stone paving of the town square, and Katniss wished the cobbled pavement would open up and swallow her along with the ruined pastry.

Peeta closed his eyes in dread for an instant before rushing to pick up the fallen sweet, blushing crimson at his flustered reaction to the young girl's words. His gaze swung nervously to the side, checking whether his mother had seen from corner of his eyes. Katniss was enraged on his behalf, that even as a grown man, he had to fear his mother's wrath and displeasure over simple mistakes.

Luckily, intent on _not _speaking to the Everdeens, Mrs. Mellark had turned her attention to the cider stand owner on their left, and was busy conversing with her fellow merchant vendor about the availability of apples that year.

Peeta breathed a tiny sigh of relief, and placed the recovered dumpling off to the side, away from the others.

"Sorry about that," he apologized, selecting the next biggest dumpling with a fresh scrap of waxed paper. "Here you go," he said, extending the treat toward Prim.

Prim graciously accepted the proffered pastry, but Katniss couldn't help but wonder if Peeta's mother would give him trouble over the pastry that had been set aside from the other, saleable baked goods. Certainly they'd end up eating it themselves, as no family in Twelve was above consuming food that had briefly touched the ground, but it represented a loss in income for the day, and Mrs. Mellark was more than cruel enough to make a considerable issue over it.

There was still money in her pocket, enough for a cup of cider each and maybe even a piece of hard candy for Prim, but she quickly recalculated. She could help him out and still have enough to still get cider for Prim.

"I'll take that one for half price!" she blurted, far louder than the situation merited, but luckily not enough to distract the Mellark matron from her discussion. Prim turned, startled that she'd suddenly decided to join the exchange, and Peeta's eyes widened, darting up to meet hers questioningly.

"That one," she insisted, pointing rigidly at the discarded dumpling. He wordlessly slipped it into a waxed paper sleeve and tallied the order. Despite her earlier mortification, Katniss couldn't help but admire the length of his eyelashes as he did so. Peeta accepted the coins from her and handed her the change.

Following her little outburst, he couldn't keep his eyes on _or _off her. They kept flitting between her hands, where he was placing her change, to her face, trying to gauge her thoughts. He still averted his gaze every time she tried to meet his regard. She stood there a moment too long, and Prim, always too wise for her age, snorted in amusement and pulled her to the next stand with a cheerful, "Thank you," to Peeta.

* * *

_I don't foresee this story having more than two or three chapters, but I will be posting them as soon as I possibly can. Thanks for reading, and I really hope it's enjoyable so far. I am **GhtlovesThg** on tumblr, should you want to pop by and say hi! :)_


	2. Sill

**Author's Note:** I wasn't expecting this chapter to take so long, but as always, the little plot bunny multiplied unchecked. So this story will be longer than first anticipated, and it's gotten a rating change to M (for future chapters). If anyone is disappointed with that, you can leave a review, PM, or tumblr ask, and I will post a PG version somewhere as well.

A million thanks to The RPGenius for being my editing hero! This chapter is dedicated to Elisabeth. :)

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Katniss slung her game bag higher on her shoulder as she turned from the cobbler's back door. There weren't many merchants willing to trade illegally with someone from the Seam, but she'd luckily been able to find some buyers for the squirrels she no longer traded to Mr. Mellark.

It was midway through winter, and she'd persistently avoided Mellark's Bakery for half a year. Katniss hadn't been there since the debacle on her birthday. She still felt uncomfortably restless and dissatisfied when she thought back on her interactions with Peeta Mellark, so the fewer reminders, the better.

It was unfortunate, because she loved bakery bread. The three Everdeen women had been making do with the coarse, makeshift bread Sae sold with her soup for months. Prim and her mother accepted the change agreeably, continuing to trust her with the majority of the household's finances and supplies. It was a small price to pay to save face. Katniss just hoped Mr. Mellark had found some other way to get meat into his diet, as she had with the bread. Katniss wondered if her absence was still noticed.

Unable to resist, given the direction of her thoughts, Katniss looked behind her toward the bakery's backyard. It was easily visible from the cobbler's back stoop, and she was surprised to see two figures approaching the door.

They were small and dark, likely Seam children. Was someone else conducting backdoor trades with merchants? Katniss had always feared the possibility of competition for clients from another Seam family, one that had grown bold or desperate enough to venture beyond the fence, as she and Gale had. Perhaps they were sending their children to do business in hopes that the merchants would soften the trade for their sake.

She had to know. It could mean her family's survival.

With a hunter's tread, Katniss entered the adjoining backyard, sneaking behind the pigpen and slinking up to the side of the bakery. Moving silently over the barren, frozen ground, she crept closer to the edge of the building, in order to hear the trade.

The two figures had by this time reached the backdoor, and peeking around the corner of the structure, Katniss could see that they were indeed Seam children, sporting the signature dark hair, olive skin, and gray eyes so common amongst Twelve's mining population. They were _very_ young, and she marveled that any family would send such small children to conduct trades, sympathetic advantage or not. There was a girl and younger boy, and they were entirely caught up in their whispered conversation, utterly unaware of Katniss' presence. She could just make out their words.

"I'm scared," whined the boy, sniffling and holding the girl's hand tightly.

His companion shushed him impatiently as he tried and failed to wipe the tears from his face. Each time he'd clear his cheeks, more fat droplets would gather at his lids.

"Look, the men here are really nice. If _she_ opens the door, we'll just say we lost a cat and ask if she's seen it," the girl compromised.

Katniss felt as if she'd been thrown back in time. The little girl was begging for scraps, and the boy in tow was probably her younger brother. They'd likely had success here in the past, but the possibility of incurring Mrs. Mellark's ire was a dangerous gamble. One the little boy wasn't eager to repeat, by the looks of it.

The girl straightened her spine, took a deep breath, and knocked bravely on the heavy door. Katniss was impressed with her mettle; the girl's only concession to nerves was gnawing on the end of a ratty pigtail as they waited.

The parallels between their situation and her past weren't lost on Katniss, and her nails dug into the rough wooden siding of the bakery as she joined the two Seam children, waiting with baited breath to see who opened the door.

As the portal swung open, the boy huddled into his sister's side. Katniss couldn't see who stood behind the door, but knew it must not be Mrs. Mellark by the way the girl slumped in relief.

"Bread for a song, Mister?" the girl chirped hopefully. A man leaned out from behind the door to get a better look at his petitioners, and Katniss was pleased to see Peeta's profile. His questioning look melted into a soft smile, and the siblings on his doorstep beamed back, all tears and fright forgotten. Katniss instantly felt warmer at the sight.

"Do you know the Valley Song?" he asked.

The girl nodded happily, and started an enthusiastic if not tuneful rendition, while her brother looked proudly on. Katniss found it amusing that the old District ballad was Peeta's song of choice. She hadn't thought of it in ages, hadn't heard it sung since…well, she couldn't remember when.

Hearing it again, the lyrics came back to her, piece by piece at the tip of her tongue, as if clamoring to escape into the open air like a flock of mockingjays. But she hadn't sung in years, and she wouldn't be starting now.

Peeta looked as if in heaven, and Katniss focused solely on his expression. His lips curled further at the corners, his smile sweet with just the right touch of nostalgia. This song clearly held meaning for him, and Katniss wondered at what it could be as his eyes closed contentedly.

When the song was over, he gladly handed over a loaf of bread, which Katniss realized he'd been holding since opening the door. Had Peeta anticipated hopeful faces and hungry bellies waiting on his doorstep?

The two Seam children grinned and giggled at each other, turning to leave as Peeta quickly disappeared from sight. Before they could even hop off the bakery stoop, he was back, stepping out onto the threshold with another loaf for the little boy.

The young child was agog, and Katniss could see herself in the girl's gaze - chagrinned to accept such generosity, but too desperate to refuse it. The first loaf was payment, the second was charity. But the girl was unable to deny her famished brother an entire loaf of bread, not with the way his eyes lit up.

Katniss could hardly fault Peeta for wanting to give the children extra. Standing on the other side of the situation now, as a self-sufficient adult, she found it hard to resist pressing some of the coins from her trades into their little hands, even knowing it would be exactly like the charity she always tried so hard to avoid.

He was truly still the boy with the bread, and Katniss was swept anew with remorse for the way she spoke to him last summer.

The little boy whooped with delight, and Katniss didn't know if it was that sound or Peeta's extended absence from the bakery that brought Mrs. Mellark down upon them. There was a sudden, unpleasant racket from within the kitchen, and the two little beggars practically tumbled off the doorstep in their haste to get away, leaving Peeta standing alone and guilty at the threshold of the door.

"Peeta! What's taking you? And who was it at door? If it's dirty Seam urchins again, I'll…"

Katniss saw the two children scampering off as fast as their scrawny legs would take them, but she feared it wouldn't be fast enough to avoid discovery. And even then, would Peeta have an excuse ready?

She sprung forward before Mrs. Mellark reached the door, standing just out of sight to the side, as if she'd been there all along. This had the added benefit blocking the youngsters' retreat from sight. Katniss squared her shoulders and positioned her fists on her hips in a challenging stance, leveling a shocked Peeta with a distasteful glare.

"Your father gives me more for squirrels," she said heatedly, as though they'd been haggling over game all the while. Katniss desperately hoped Peeta would catch on and play it up, because she had nothing left to trade. If her bluff was called in front of Mrs. Mellark, she wasn't sure how she'd explain bartering over an imaginary squirrel.

His blue eyes darted down to her game bag, limp and empty at her side. "I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to trade any more for it, no matter how expertly shot."

Peering nosily over his shoulder, Mrs Mellark's face went from a mask of gleeful satisfaction at hearing her son driving a hard bargain, to one of exasperation, rolling her eyes at the compliment to Katniss' hunting skills. Katniss struggled to suppress a pleased smile at his praise, the complicit amusement sparkling in his eyes not helping her composure. His mother put an end to that.

"If you're not going to conduct a fair trade, girl, get off our doorstep," she snapped. "We're decent, hardworking folk and we haven't got time for shiftless visitors! Peeta, you've got more important things to do than be swindled out of good bread for a mangy rodent," she said nastily, her parting shot an effort to negate his earlier praise.

Katniss gripped her game bag in anger, biting back a retort as she remembered she was doing this for the sake of keeping him out of trouble and preventing the two beggar-children from being discovered. If Mrs. Mellark found out about them serenading her son for bread, she'd be sure to put a stop to it the next time.

His mother turned on her heel and swept out of the kitchen, undoubtedly expecting Peeta to follow. Instead, he turned back toward Katniss and softly closed the door, his eyes intent on hers until they disappeared from view.

Katniss stood at the back door for a moment before turning in the direction of the Seam. That had gone…better than expected, actually. She'd even made Peeta look almost as miserly as Mrs. Mellark. The woman would have to appreciate _that_, Katniss thought sourly.

Before she'd taken half a dozen steps, she heard the creak of a latch and the scrape of wood as the door pushed open behind her. She braced herself for another rude onslaught.

"Katniss?"

It was Peeta, which was a relief, but nerve-wracking in an entirely different way. His voice was cautiously quiet as her addressed her.

She paused. Part of her wanted to bolt. She'd been embarrassed enough to change her trading habits to avoid him, and he must have seen her bartering at his neighbors' back doors in place of his own. Katniss felt her skin flush at the awkwardness of the situation, her stomach clenching nervously at the thought of conversing with him.

Nevertheless, she turned to face him. Peeta was halfway out the door, and he closed it behind him once it was clear she would stay. He approached her until he stood only feet away. And he was still readily meeting her eyes, so different than the last two times they'd spoken.

Katniss stared at him apprehensively, at a loss for what he might say. Peeta, in turn, looked nervous but determined, and gathered himself to speak.

"Thanks for stepping in there," he said with a gentle smile.

She shrugged off his gratitude. It had been the right thing to do. She of all people couldn't ignore a situation like that.

"It wasn't just a service you paid them," Peeta continued, "you helped _me_ out too. And during the Harvest Festival as well," he added hastily.

Katniss took a breath. Maybe she could recoup lost ground.

"Who- who would I be if I didn't return a favor when I could?"

Peeta watched her attentively. Maybe he was wondering which favor she was referring to - the bread or the cupcake. Even she wasn't sure. Both, she supposed.

"Well, I'm glad you did," he said. There was a beat of silence.

"Do you often barter bread for folk ballads?" she asked, desperate not to be the one to let the conversation flounder, and incredulous at his seemingly endless generosity.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Why, considering a new trading approach?"

Katniss rolled her eyes. He was just teasing, there was no way he'd know-

"Because for a song from you, I'd trade _anything_."

She regarded him closely at this, her cheeks heating as she realized perhaps he _wasn't_ teasing. Peeta looked entirely serious, his gaze intent and intense.

"My father misses your squirrels," he added at her silence. "I hope I didn't do anything to make you- Well, I hope there isn't any reason you'd feel uncomfortable trading with my family."

"You mean besides the obvious," she couldn't resist blurting out, raising her eyebrows in question and indicating the spot at the door his mother had recently vacated.

Peeta laughed genuinely at her sarcasm. "Yes, besides that. I just…I hope _I_ haven't done anything to upset you," he finished awkwardly.

She shook her head in denial, though they both knew she'd been steering clear of the bakery for months. But perhaps no longer.

"Then that's all the more reason to trade with us," Peeta said enthusiastically. "It's a prime opportunity to annoy her."

Katniss found herself grinning, truly and fully. She'd been so worried about talking to him, and was still nervous, but he was just so good-natured, so generous about overlooking her unkind reaction to the cupcake, that she actually found herself enjoying the exchange.

"Well, when you put it like _that_…" she trailed off, half-joking. She probably would start trading with the Mellarks again. But she wasn't going to push her luck any further today. Best to leave it at that, before she said or did something unintentionally rude.

At Peeta's resulting smile, Katniss ducked her head in parting and turned toward the square, walking briskly over the frosty ground toward the Seam, his broadly smiling form at her back.

* * *

She resumed trading at the bakery the next week. Mr Mellark offered more than the usual amount for her squirrels, trying to be competitive with the merchants who'd been buying her squirrels in the past months, but Katniss wouldn't hear of it. She assured him she'd be back, and that the usual amount of bread per squirrel was fine.

Things fell back into a familiar routine, with one exception. When she stood on the threshold of the bakery's back door, waiting for Mr. Mellark to fetch the agreed-upon allotment of bread, Katniss would peer into the warm kitchen, her eyes seeking out Peeta. The first time she did so, he smiled goofily and they exchanged an awkward wave in greeting. The next time, both smiled shyly in acknowledgement of the other. Soon, it was rare for Peeta to be out of the kitchen when she stopped by. Katniss couldn't help but anticipate her trades with the baker. It was pleasant to see the way his son's smile lit the four corners of the room, and she had to tug down the corners of her lips each time suppress a ridiculous answering grin.

But one day in February, it was Peeta who answered the door, not his father. He looked harried, not like his usual self, and the smile he had for her was distracted.

"Hello Katniss," he sighed.

"Hi," she greeted. "Where's your father?"

Peeta leaned toward her and lowered his voice. "He's ill. Couldn't get out of bed this morning. Mom won't let him see anyone about it because she's worried no one will want to buy bread from a sick baker," he admitted.

"Send him to my mother," Katniss said. It seemed obvious. "She can be discreet about it."

Peeta's eyes shifted to the side. "Ah, I'm afraid that wouldn't go over too well. My mother…she's not particularly fond of your mother for…some things that happened in the past," he hedged.

"Don't worry, he'll probably be better in a few days' time," Peeta assured her, though it looked like he could use some convincing of that fact. "What have you got for us today?"

But in a few days, Mr. Mellark was no better.

"He's worse," Peeta whispered to her as he tucked several steaming bread rolls into her bag. "She says he's just exaggerating, milking it for all it's worth, but I'm sure that's not the case. Dad adores being in the bakery."

He raised his eyes to hers, and Katniss was dismayed to see dark smudges had formed beneath them. Besides the weariness and displeasure with his mother, she could see fear lurking in Peeta's expression. Until surprise flashed across his features, momentarily replacing the worry, and Katniss realized that in her concern she had reached out and gently taken hold of his wrist.

Not knowing exactly where to go from there, she gave a quick, comforting squeeze and dropped her hand to her side.

"Thank you," he whispered, as she turned to leave.

His face was drawn with exhaustion and anxiety the next time she saw him. The second eldest son, who'd apprenticed outside the bakery, was there to help and Peeta had a moment to stop and trade.

He caught at her hand as she stooped to tie up her bag.

"He could barely sit up today. Please Katniss, if I told you his symptoms, could you ask your mother what we might buy discreetly at the apothecary?

"Of course," she assured.

She did better than that. The moment she was home, she pulled Prim into the kitchen, and the two got to work. Katniss made a hearty stew, full of nourishing roots and tubers, and plentiful with chunks of squirrel meat. Prim began preparing some medicine based on the description of the ailment, all while directing her older sister which herbs to add to the soup to alleviate the baker's symptoms.

As Katniss poured the soup into the tin thermos she used on longer winter treks outside the fence, she realized that she was going out of her way to extend charity to the Mellarks. To think: a merchant receiving a hand-out from a family in the Seam! It was such a reversal of the usual state of things, she could scarcely believe it. But the remembrance of the strain and agonized worry in Peeta's face guided her actions, and she twisted the cap on the thermos with a brisk finality. Katniss was adamant about following through with her actions. Mr. Mellark was a good person and a reliable client. And Peeta, he was…a friend, of sorts. Or a very pleasant acquaintance. She wasn't sure. But he needed her help.

Perhaps, Katniss thought to herself, since they were familiar in a friendly sort of way, and now they had each required the other's help at one time, they could be even and she could stop tallying their every interaction in terms of debts owed and payments made.

She hurried back to the bakery shortly after. Snow was falling softly now, and Katniss nearly slipped several times in her haste. The middle son was stepping out the front door and into the twilight when she arrived. He waved to his eldest brother, who was sweeping the front of the shop, before turning up his coat collar and setting off into the night.

Turning into the darkened alley at the side of the structure, Katniss went around to the rear of the building. Peeta was visible through the window, tidying up the kitchen with tired movements. She paused, poised to knock, remembering how difficult it was to accept handouts. How the gratitude could morph into rankling guilt and shame. She wanted to spare him that.

Though she doubted Peeta would let something like this alter their little tradition of greeting one another when she traded with his father, she wasn't willing to risk it. If she didn't present it to him in person, he didn't have to acknowledge the gesture outright. Setting the hot thermos and packet of medicine on the doorstep, Katniss knocked sharply before darting away back down the alley and through the district square, the night an accomplice as it gathered to hide her retreat.

The dusting of snow that night was merely the beginning of a long winter storm that settled in the next day. The heavy snowfall prevented any hunting or trading for several days.

When Katniss returned to the Mellarks' later that week, fresh game in tow, it was with the expectation that things would be the same as ever.

She had barely rapped once on the door before it flew open, a beaming Peeta on the other side of the threshold. She found herself pulled into a set of strong arms, enveloped in a warm, floury embrace before even a word was exchanged.

Katniss couldn't find her breath. It had gotten lost somewhere between the sturdy planes of his chest and crooks of his arms as he hugged her tightly. His hand rested at the small of her back, holding her to him effortlessly.

She reveled. It felt like pure sunlight was pouring through her in the middle of the winter, and she soaked every bit of it in, breathing him and the scents of the bakery into her lungs as deeply as possible. She hadn't felt anything so secure and reassuring since she was a child.

They broke apart a moment later, Katniss almost reluctant to let go. "He's so much better, Katniss! He's manning the front with Ander because he's still weak, but he's getting stronger every day. You're brilliant!" he said with glowing admiration.

Katniss stammered as she disclaimed all responsibility and credited Prim's efforts.

"You're _both_ brilliant," he insisted. "Hold on a second."

He went back into the kitchen and removed a flat tray from the enormous oven, then started plucking off key rolls, putting them into one of the bakery's paper bags. Peeta wrapped it up and returned to her.

"This is for you and your family - your _amazing_ family," he said fervently, pressing the warm bundle into her arms with a emphatic squeeze to her hand.

Since she'd resolved to look at their exchanges in a new light, one in which they were equals with nothing owed, Katniss recognized the gift as the thanks it was, and not an obligatory attempt at repayment. She should have known Peeta would be as generous a recipient as he was a giver.

Tucking the parcel into her game bag, she stepped down from the stoop on stilted legs. Her limbs didn't seem to be working quite in tandem; she was still reeling from the surprise of his greeting. Katniss gave him a parting wave, and he grinned happily in farewell.

She could smell the oil and cheese and warm bread all the way home, where Katniss realized she had completely forgotten to trade the squirrels still weighing down her bag.

Once there, she sank her teeth into the most heavenly baked good she'd ever experienced. Thank you's were nice, she decided, especially when they came in the form of cheese buns. But nicer still was the tingling feeling still thrumming through all the places she and Peeta had touched.

* * *

As winter waned and the days lengthened, Katniss stayed out hunting with Gale longer. In early March, it became apparent that he had more on his mind than snares and foraging.

"Almost the time of year when animals pair up," Gale mused, as they crouched by some underbrush. She nodded in affirmation, not taking her eyes off the tracks their quarry left behind in the light snow. A few moments passed before he spoke again. "All of 'em settle down, start making families. Even the wildest animals," he added.

She paused and turned to look at him. While the conversations they had in the forest were some of the most meaningful, certainly the most uninhibited, of her life, they didn't waste time bandying words while in the midst of tracking. It would make for very poor hauls. The less noise made, the better the pickings. So Katniss knew there must be something on Gale's mind, something he was itching to discuss, considering he hadn't waited for their return trip through the woods.

Expecting him to elaborate, Katniss waited. When nothing further seemed to be forthcoming, she gave a soft, "mm-hmm," and pressed on, taking pleasure in the silence that accompanied her movements as the soles of her boots sank softly into the slowly-thawing earth.

A few moments later, she heard Gale's intake of breath as he prepared to speak again. Katniss pursed her lips. Apparently he wasn't through belaboring the time of year. They'd been closing in on the fowl, but it would be miraculous if there were any left in the area soon.

"People aren't all that different, you know. Every spring, there's a whole bunch of toastings."

This was true, but Katniss had no desire to pursue the subject. Since the day of Prim's first Reaping, Gale had hinted from time to time that he wanted a family someday. As his siblings grew older and less reliant on him, the topic had come up with greater frequency. Eventually, Katniss realized that Gale anticipated _her_ being part of that scenario.

He hadn't explicitly stated it, but the talk of them running away together had shifted to how well they communicated and maneuvered when hunting, how they were a team in the forest, and how seamlessly that would translate to domestic capability. Katniss wasn't so sure.

Yes, in the woods surrounding District Twelve, they were one, seamless unit. They formed two halves of the same whole. Katniss was fiercely protective of what they had in the forest. It was a sacred place for them, and they belonged here: side by side beneath the trees, two hunters against the odds.

But she desired nothing beyond that with him. The closer they got to the district at the end of each hunting day, the more Katniss drew away from him. Not in a major, noticeable way. Gale was still her closest friend. But in the way he wanted them united, she wished to remain separate.

Plus, she'd told him her feelings on having children. Knowing Gale, he'd be as unwilling to change his mind as she was, and he shouldn't have to. But he was getting restless, and probably thought he could bring her around to his way of thinking. He didn't know her as well as he thought, sometimes.

"Posy's been talking about Bristel and Thom's toasting nonstop. Leevy'll probably be looking to settle down too. Pretty soon everyone our age will be paired up." Katniss remained quiet. She didn't want to go down this road. Her silence should speak volumes, but he was stubborn enough to refuse to take the hint. It made her feel terrible, Katniss loved Gale in her own way, but she couldn't give him this. It wasn't in her.

She saw the first wild turkey straggling behind the rest of the flock, and took aim. Their peers _would_ all be pairing up soon. Had been already, she corrected, remembering Delly's wedding last summer. Katniss knew Gale hadn't been counting their former merchant classmates in those ranks, but she did.

Even amongst the small community of Seam girls Gale spoke of, Katniss tended to keep to herself. She felt a certain camaraderie with them, but she found it difficult to offer intimacy and closeness to anyone, save Prim. Still, she was aware of Thom and Bristel's impending nuptials. Also that Leevy hoped to catch Gale's eye. She tried to picture Gale toasted and settled into a little miner's shack with Leevy. It didn't seem possible, not here in their forest world, so she dismissed it. Either way, she had to put a firm end to this line of discussion. She couldn't be thinking about future matches in Twelve, not when she had game to hunt.

"How nice for them," Katniss said curtly. She drew the bowstring taut and let the arrow fly. Gale shook his head, whether in deference to her unfailing accuracy or in exasperated frustration of her dismissal, she wasn't sure. Shouldering her bow, Katnss stepped forward to collect the kill, happy to leave the conversation behind. She'd avoided a painful, potentially disastrous confrontation for another day. Now she could go back to focusing on feeding her family.

* * *

But she started thinking about the future nonetheless. Katniss had always thought of the years ahead as a single, static struggle to survive. Now she had to admit there were inevitable changes ahead. Whether she'd avoided thinking about them intentionally or not, they were approaching. Gale would eventually give up on her and marry. Prim would undoubtedly fall in love, toast her lucky beau, and maybe start a family.

Katniss felt she'd suffer a considerable loss of purpose once Prim moved on and started a life for herself. There would always be little ways to look after her sister, but the endless, exhausting challenge of supporting her family would suddenly be considerably lightened. It would just be Katniss and her mother for the most part.

The days ahead were looking increasingly dull and gray. She'd stay as close to Prim as possible, no matter what, but she couldn't count on her little duck always being around to brighten her days. Katniss would have to find her own source of brightness at some point.

It didn't help that the morning was as pallid and dreary as her imaginings, with cold intermittent rain chilling her to the bone. Though it was exactly a week since Gale had pointed out the change of season, winter still reigned. Katniss could feel spring approaching though, smell and taste it in the air, despite the drab surroundings. She wouldn't be surprised to see the bravest, most hopeful plants beginning to break through the snow in the meadow.

In this case, the promise of change was welcome. Out of any time of the year, the last, lingering days of winter were her least favorite. It called to mind angry screaming, worried eyes watching her, and damp, warm bread resting on the wet ground.

She thought of the bakery, a warm golden beacon on a day like this, and of its occupants. She liked the new, tentative rapport she had with Peeta. Shy smiles exchanged through the doorway as she traded with his father. But how long would that last? Peeta was her age, surely he'd be making changes like the rest of their peers. How long before her presence at the door became commonplace, and the novelty of their little greeting wore off? Surely his notice of her would dwindle away to nothing once he had a wife and life of his own to occupy him. They'd never spoken before this year, and there was no reason to assume they would in the future. Katniss didn't like that. She didn't want to lose her connection with the boy with the bread.

Suddenly, Katniss wanted to do something for him. Anything. Just so she could see him light up and know _she'd_ lit the spark of his happiness. She was headed out to the meadow anyway on her way to the woods, but now she was running. Katniss wasn't sure where this sudden impetus had come from, but Peeta seemed to have a way of drawing unexpected responses from her.

Once there, she didn't head toward the fence like usual. She dashed about through the meadow, brushing the thin covering of snow aside each time she spied the stalks she sought - because she'd been right, the most intrepid plants of the season were here already, and though they'd barely opened for the morning, their sunny yellow color added a splash of brightness to the landscape.

Katniss didn't stop until she had a respectable bunch of dandelions. Her cuffs were wet and fingers half-frozen, but with her free hand she reached up to unwind the strip of rawhide binding her braid. It was just long enough to securely knot around the bundle of weeds.

She still needed to hunt today, and since it was Sunday, Gale would be joining her. He wouldn't wait forever, though, and she didn't want to cut in on his time in the forest. Or have him start without her. And since Katniss didn't wish to explain the impulse that had derailed her from her path, she hurried back out of the meadow and towards town. If she hurried, she could be back in a decent amount of time.

As she approached the Mellarks' back door, Katniss realized she didn't know exactly how to go about this. He didn't need to know it was from her, in fact, it would probably be less awkward if he never knew. This was just about pleasing him for a moment, mad as it sounded in her head. She had no idea when his birthday was, but she couldn't help but feel that this was her secret answer to his cupcake.

Luckily for her, she'd caught them just as they cleaned up a hasty breakfast. She could see them dumping eggshells and crusts into a bucket through the window. They always left at least one kitchen window open, and Katniss could hear Mrs. Mellark off to the side, banging hardened rolls on the kitchen table before deeming them salvageable for the family or fit for the pigs. Once the pail was filled with food remnants, she jerked her head toward the backyard, and Peeta rose from the table and began putting on his jacket.

This was her chance. Katniss scurried to the door, unceremoniously dropped the bundle of dandelions upon the threshold, and retreated back around the side of the building, to where she'd watched the young Seam girl serenade Peeta. Katniss knew he wouldn't have a clue who'd left them, certainly wouldn't connect dandelions to that day in the rain, though the two were forever entwined in her mind, but she still wanted to see his expression. He'd probably assume it was a gift from an admirer, or, given its humble nature, a thank you present from the two little beggar children. She'd be the last person he'd expect to give him flowers. She wasn't known for her whimsical nature.

But he knew.

As the light spilled into the backyard from the open kitchen door, Peeta just stood there, contemplating the flowers. Rain droplets quietly splashed into his curls and onto the tiny yellow petals, but he barely moved. He only raised his head, looking under the apple tree by the pig pen as if expecting to see someone there.

He gently picked up the sodden bundle, and his eyes swept the area searchingly.

"Katniss?" he called. His voice was tentative as a whisper, but the puzzlement in his tone made the sound carry.

She huddled further back from his sight, pressing into the side of the bakery. Somehow, he'd noticed her that day, the day she couldn't thank him. Somehow, he'd been there with her, sharing her moment of discovery with the dandelion and witnessing the birth of hope in her eyes, and she'd never even known it. It was the only explanation she could think of.

She'd only wanted him to smile. Provide some momentary amusement to a kind person, one who went all too unappreciated. Instead, Peeta was standing expectantly in the rain, awaiting some sort of response, and she was completely flabbergasted, trying to become one with the wooden slats on the side of his house.

After an interminable minute where both parties stood waiting and listening for sounds from the other, Peeta carefully tucked the wet flowers into his jacket and walked out to the pig pen.

She hadn't brought a smile to his face. Not even remotely. Instead, Katniss felt like she had exposed a part of him unfairly, uncovered something so much deeper in him than she ever could have guessed.

Shaken, she detached herself from the building and somehow made it back to the meadow in time.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! And let me know what you think! I'm GhtlovesThg on tumblr if anyone wants to chat! :D


	3. Jamb

There's an Author's Note at the bottom. You guys have waited long enough for the this chapter, so I won't ramble here. Thank you to The RPGenius for editing this monstrous thing in record time.

I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy

* * *

**Chapter Three**

She could feel Gale watching her again.

It was later that morning, and Katniss was huddled over, holding a snare in place while he rewound the trip wire. The rain had picked up, but neither of them were willing to forsake a Sunday's hunt. Not when the animals were only now venturing out of their winter refuges as the weather got warmer. Unfortunately, they hadn't been as successful at bagging bigger game as she would have hoped.

Katniss blamed the rain, both for her game bag, which held nothing but squirrels, and for Gale's stares.

There hadn't been time to run home and get another strip of rawhide for her braid after leaving the dandelions, not if she'd wanted to meet Gale in time. So she'd tucked her hair into the collar of her coat, but the rain and her movement kept dislodging it, and the plait had unraveled numerous times without anything holding it in place.

Katniss had noticed she was drawing Gale's attention about an hour into their excursion. When she turned to meet his persistent regard, his eyes darted elsewhere. But they always crept back, drawn to the way the loose hair framed her face in the rain.

She huffed out a breath in exasperation. This was getting ridiculous. She could've reset this snare in half the time, and Gale was the one who'd devised it. Katniss raised her head, meeting his gaze deliberately. "Do you have a piece of twine or something? I want to tie my hair back."

"I was going to ask, where's your regular one?" he inquired, voice rough. "You rarely keep it loose."

She never did. "I lost it."

"Well, I don't have anything but snare line. But that could work. Grab some from my bag," he offered.

Katniss cut a small piece of the thinnest wire he had. Winding it around the bottom of her hair worked fairly well. There wasn't enough drag between the metal and the wet strands of her hair, but it would have to do for now. She just hoped the rough edges of the wire didn't scratch the leather of her father's coat.

By the time they started back toward Twelve, they were soaked to the bone. Katniss couldn't wait to get out of her damp clothes and warm herself by the fire at home, and she knew Gale felt the same.

"Let's split the trades. You take the left of the square, I'll take the right, and I'll come find you when I'm done," he directed, anxious to be finished.

Katniss inwardly groaned, but agreed. With only squirrels to trade, one of them would definitely be going to the bakery. Just her luck that it was on the left side of the town square. She felt awkward and embarrassed after giving her botched gift of dandelions to Peeta that morning. But there was no way she was explaining that to Gale, so she'd just have to make do.

She avoided the bakery as long as she could, but an hour later, Katniss was steeling her nerves as she rapped on the back door. Like the time after his father was ill, Peeta pulled it open almost immediately, as if he'd been anticipating her knock.

Katniss wordlessly held up her game bag, hoping she could conduct the trade without any mention of that morning's failure. But Peeta had different ideas.

"Katniss, you're drenched! Come in and get warm for a moment," he said, before turning to head back inside. He'd given her no chance to decline and even left the door open, just assuming she'd follow.

Katniss scowled at the fact that it was working as she stepped over the threshold. Usually, she wouldn't pause during her rounds, but she was cold and damp, and now that she was in the warm kitchen, it _was _awfully inviting.

Approaching his worktable, Katniss removed the last of the squirrels and waited for him to fetch the ensuing bread loaf.

"Oh, not near the work area," Peeta said, indicating the flour-covered tabletop. "C'mon over here, you can set it by the sink."

She did so, but Peeta seemed in no hurry to present her with her bread, instead handing her a cup of hot tea. Katniss hesitantly accepted it, brushing the waterlogged strands of her hair back behind her ears and away from her forehead. She should be going. Gale would be waiting for her to finish soon. But what was the harm in one cup of tea, now that she was here?

"What do you think of my dandelions?" Peeta asked conversationally, gesturing to the riot of yellow brightening the windowsill over the sink.

She hadn't even seen them. Yet they were right there, sitting in an old flour canister, bold and brave as a declaration. He watched her take them in with pleasantly attentive eyes.

Katniss reminded herself for the thousandth time that he only _suspected_. He couldn't possibly know without a doubt that she had been the one to leave them at his doorstep. Peeta was just fishing for clues and trying to get her to admit to it. Well, that wasn't happening.

"They're alright. For weeds."

"They're far more than just weeds to me," he countered.

"They taste fine. If you don't mind a little grit," she conceded, wincing as she imagined how inane her comments must sound. Peeta nodded thoughtfully, as if considering her statement.

"Well, I just wanted to share them with you. They certainly brightened my day, so I thought you might like to see them," he explained, looking from them to her. And there was her smile, the one she'd wanted from him that morning. It was shining out of him now, and the corners of her own lips tugged upward in answer, as if attached to his by some invisible pulley.

He'd enjoyed them. The knowledge filled her with as much warmth as the tea did. They stayed like that for a handful of seconds, and Katniss could feel something about the moment building.

"Of course, any day that involves your knock at the door is a bright one," Peeta said warmly.

"You…must really like squirrels," she answered, her face hiding further behind the mug she held with every word.

Peeta chuckled in amusement. "Not particularly," he assured her.

She tried to contain her blush, but it felt as though it was all the way to her ears. Katniss cast about for a change in topic.

"How's your father? I thought he'd be the one at the door."

"Oh, he's fine, just working out front. He agreed that I could handle the trades from now on." Peeta looked almost giddy at the pronouncement. "Taking on more responsibility in the family business and all," he said, his mouth curving still further.

"Right. Congratulations." She supposed her concerns from the morning were unfounded. There would be plenty of opportunity to see and talk to Peeta in the future.

"Well, let me get you your bread," he said, turning and walking to the racks by the oven. Katniss looked back at the dandelions, and noticed the leather strip she'd tied around them sitting by the sink.

Checking that he was still occupied, she darted her hand out and grabbed it. Once Peeta returned and noticed the damp state of her game bag, he insisted on wrapping the loaf in wax paper out front.

She smiled in appreciation, and waited until he was gone before yanking the snare line out of her hair and snugly tightening the rawhide around the end of her plait once more. Thank goodness. She'd been cringing all day, imagining the rough end of the wire destroying the back of her father's coat. Katniss cradled the mug of tea in her palms again as if she'd never moved. Soon, Peeta was back, presenting her with a carefully wrapped parcel.

"All set."

"Thank you," she said, stowing the package in her bag.

"And take this," he said, plucking a single yellow bloom from the bunch on the sill before holding it out to her. "A little cheer to brighten an otherwise dreary day."

Katniss slowly reached out and accepted the flower from him, allowing her fingers to brush his. A thrill shot up through her fingertips at the contact, and she smiled at him shyly, feeling silly but pleased to be standing in his kitchen with tea in one hand, a scrap of spring in the other.

"You should always have a dandelion with you Katniss," Peeta said softly. "They make you light up."

Heat blossomed in her chest, and she wondered if this was the closest they'd ever come to acknowledging their past aloud. A heavy knock at the door jolted Katniss from her thoughts.

Peeta went to open it, and Katniss found herself leveled with a questioning, speculative look from a very impatient Gale.

"Heard your name through the window. I've been waiting for you to finish your trades," he said bluntly, looking past Peeta to where she stood, guiltily holding her steaming mug while he dripped on the stoop.

Katniss felt her face go beet red and glanced wildly at Peeta. He was looking back at her, happiness still evident on his face from her acceptance of his floral offering. How had Gale overheard?

"Can I offer you some hot tea, Gale?" Peeta inquired. "You've both been out in the cold rain for some time."

"No." Gale managed to extinguish the amicable atmosphere in the room with one word. Katniss knew he'd never consider taking refreshment from a merchant. He was likely shocked to find her doing so. She saw him eyeing the dandelion she held with suspicion.

"Alright," Peeta managed, maintaining a polite demeanor. Katniss turned abruptly and handed Peeta her cup, fumbling it into his hands.

"Thank you," she mumbled awkwardly, bending to collect her game bag and discreetly tucking the dandelion in her pocket as she did. Katniss hastened to the door.

"Goodbye," Peeta called, as she hurried over the threshold.

"What was that all about?" Gale asked as soon as they'd reached the road to the Seam.

"What?" Katniss asked defensively.

"Taking tea with the baker's kid. I'm surprised he wasn't serving scones." Gale laughed at the idea and nudged her in enjoyment of his joke.

Katniss fought to keep the grimace off her face. She wasn't amused.

"I mean, it takes at least forty minutes of prodding before you'll even take a swig of mint tea from my canteen on a cold day," he explained. "And there you are, clinking cups with a merchant."

"Well, maybe that's because your mint tea is awful," she mock-griped, hoping to distract him.

He snorted. "Yeah, next time I'll avoid getting my mint leaves from that forager with the braid," he teased. And emboldened after witnessing her familiarity with Peeta, Gale reached over to tug the end of her plaited hair. "She's awful. Clearly has shoddy product," he added, affecting a snooty Capitol accent.

Katniss chuckled, but her stomach dropped when she saw Gale's eyes narrow. He'd just realized the rawhide strip was back in her braid.

"What the…? Seriously, what is _with _you? Did you braid each other's hair at your little tea party?" he asked incredulously.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped thinly, walking faster past the shacks lining the Seam streets.

"I found it in my pocket," Katniss lied a moment later, but it was too late. Gale was in a foul mood and barely listening. Luckily, they'd reached her house.

"I'll see you next week," she offered in a conciliatory tone, before ascending the crooked steps to her door.

* * *

Katniss woke, blinking slowly against the dawn's light, as gray as her eyes. Once she'd gotten her bearings, she realized the significance of the day ahead. It was May eighth, and she was twenty years old.

As she slipped out of her nightwear and into her hunting outfit, she considered the past year. It had been a bitter struggle, as always. Most importantly though, Prim had stayed out of the Games another year. Now she had to get through the Reaping next month.

The past year had yielded some unexpected surprises along the way though. Her accord with Peeta, for one thing. Katniss never could have predicted the fragile friendship that had developed between them. It was still in the fledging stage, but she knew finding anyone as well-meaning and good natured as Peeta in District Twelve was a rarity, and their rapport warranted protection.

It was hard to believe that twelve months had passed since she'd stood in contemplation of that pink cupcake on her doorstep. She glanced at the entryway of kitchen with a rueful little smile, wishing again she hadn't discouraged him so thoroughly.

There would be no sweet surprises at her door this year, and in hindsight, she thought she'd miss it a little. It had been nice to be noticed, made to feel special, and fussed over. More than nice. It was a wholly new experience for her.

Katniss shook her head and focused on lacing her boots. This day was like any other, had _always _been like any other, last year included. It was high time she set out for the fence.

She stopped in the doorway as her heart gave a little leap. There was something encased in wax paper on her doorstep.

Kneeling down, Katniss opened it right away. Inside was a single, iced cookie with a cheerful dandelion painted expertly on the top in frosting.

There was no question as to the identity of the sender, and with the past year behind her, Katniss felt only elated pleasure to receive the small present from Peeta. Her face split into a grin, and she happily tucked the cookie in her pocket for later. Continuing on with a spring in her step, she started devising little ways to surprise him as well.

As it turned out, the dandelions, both flowers and cookie, were just the beginning.

Over the following several months, Katniss and Peeta left numerous items designed to delight the other on the doorsteps of their respective houses. All were trivial, inconsequential little gifts, most just small bakery items and spoils of the forest, but the anticipation of finding something unexpected on the threshold, coupled with the thoughtfulness behind each present, quickly established their playful ritual as something sacred and precious to Katniss.

Peeta allowed their secret exchanges to stay separate from their trading interactions, an unspoken arrangement which suited Katniss completely. When bartering, he was simply his genial, friendly self, and Katniss found herself lingering to chat longer and longer as time went on.

He'd lean on the jamb, smelling of flour and warm bread, and she'd find herself swaying imperceptibly closer to him as he regaled her with amusing anecdotes about his brothers, or made her laugh over the colorful characters that comprised the bakery's merchant clientele.

Peeta soon discovered the quickest way to get Katniss to open up was to ask about Prim, and soon Katniss was giving him regular updates on how well Prim was doing in school, how Lady was the luckiest goat in Panem, and what nefarious hijinks Buttercup was getting away with.

During these fleeting exchanges, Katniss cast about for inspiration on what to leave at Peeta's doorstep in the future. He seemed to know a great deal more about her than she did him, but Katniss refused to let that impede her. After seeing him bend to re-tie his boots countless times while they traded, she had her answer. His shoes looked to be laced with the strings usually found on the tops of flour and oat bags, cinching them closed. The ones threaded through his boots were in such frayed tatters that even Peeta's habitual double knots had no effect — they were coming undone every time she saw him.

Katniss strongly suspected that Mrs. Mellark kept all his wages or doled them out like a miser. Peeta's needs clearly weren't something the woman considered a pressing concern. The thought made her realize how lucky she was to manage her own finances, paltry as they were, instead of relying on another's favor when something was needed.

Once she'd bartered for a serviceable, gently-used pair of bootlaces at the Hob, Katniss sneaked them onto his doorstep. But she was dismayed to see his boots still untied, even _with _the new laces, the next time she traded at the bakery. That was, until he made a big production of stooping down one final time to knot them, peeking up at her midway with bright eyes and a barely contained smile. Katniss had to bite her lip to keep from crowing.

They talked about anything and everything. She teased him about the way he always smelled of cinnamon. When he played along and wondered how to go about changing that, Katniss forbade him from doing so, claiming she wouldn't be able to recognize him otherwise. She found a cinnamon roll on her doorstep the next week.

They fretted together over whether the two beggar-children were alright, and Katniss asked if he'd gotten an encore of "The Valley Song" since last winter. He hadn't, but revealed the tune had always been a favorite after he heard it sung in school and saw the mockingjays outside fall silent once the singer began.

Katniss was stunned. She'd only seen that happen when her father sang, and told Peeta as much. He seemed secretly amused by this, which annoyed her at first, because it looked like he didn't believe her. Once Peeta finished chuckling, he admitted he'd already known that.

But things were different on Sundays, when she hunted with Gale. He made sure to accompany her to the bakery door every time, and his impatience during the trade put a damper on things. As a result, she was very distant and subdued with Peeta those days. He remained pleasant as ever, to both her and Gale, but his smiles were for her alone.

The only times Katniss couldn't speak with him were the days he spent piping and frosting cakes in the shop's front window. After the interest generated by his work on Delly's cake last year, Mrs. Mellark had him do all his decorating where he was highly visible. And this year, much to Katniss' chagrin, there were a rash of toastings, both in the merchant class, where many of the couples' families were wealthy enough to commission a celebratory cake for the toasting, and in the Seam, where just a loaf of real bakery bread was an extravagance.

An increase in toastings meant increased pressure from Gale about the future. As May flowered into June, and June melted into July, he got increasingly persistent. But he never came out and stated his intentions, so Katniss took to wriggling out of awkward conversations, avoiding the subject at all costs. Their Sundays in the forest began to feel different, more like she was the prey, and the forest floor was filled with his snares, waiting to catch at her and trip her up, entrapping her.

Nonetheless, she continued to collect little treasures for Peeta as they presented themselves, even while hunting with Gale. One Sunday, Katniss saw a mockingjay feather caught in the branches of a tree. She decided it would make the perfect gift for Peeta, given their recent discussion regarding the songbirds and her father, so she climbed up to get it.

Completely confused by her actions, Gale called her down as she strained toward the branch with the feather. Once it was in her possession and her feet were back on the ground, he naturally asked what she'd been thinking; they had all the feathers they needed for fletchings from wild turkeys. But Katniss wouldn't explain her behavior.

After leaving the black and white barred feather on Peeta's doorstep, Katniss received a sketch of the bird itself, drawn on wax paper with the heavy graphite pencil used to mark orders in the bakery. She'd had no idea his work at the bakery bespoke artistic talent, something almost completely unheard of in District Twelve. Katniss found herself dearly wanting to help him explore his abilities, in any way she could. From then on, she had a wide choice of items to leave for Peeta. There was wood and animal hair for paint brushes, and roots, berries, and clays for paint pigments.

She took to carrying jars in her game bag, wrapped in rags to keep them from clinking against each other as she walked and scaring the game. Gale would watch in silent consternation as she scooped clay from the bottom of creeks or crushed berries into deep-hued pigments. He'd given up asking about the purpose of the crude paints she created. Katniss was increasingly vague about the recipient, and he knew she wasn't trading or selling them, at least not each Sunday. She should have expected it would spur his suit.

For Gale, everything reached a boiling point one Sunday late in August.

Since she'd begun receiving little surprises at her door regularly, Katniss' first action every morning was to leave bed and check for something from Peeta. Even before she'd exchanged her nightgown for hunting clothes or plaited her hair, Katniss would stand at the door barefoot and peek out into the gray of dawn in excited anticipation. Their little ritual had quickly become the highlight of each week.

For most of August, Twelve had suffered through a heat wave, with even the nights being blisteringly hot. Katniss hadn't been able sleep until just before dawn that Saturday, and as a result, she accidentally slept past the time she'd normally meet Gale. Typically, if one of them didn't show on Sunday, the other would hunt alone, then give the other half the haul or a cut of the trade money later in the day. But Gale had been especially overbearing lately, and he came to check on her.

When she bounded out the door, game bag dangling from the crook of her elbow and hair haphazardly braided, she came to an abrupt halt. Gale was standing before the door, staring at a sheet of paper with a look of puzzlement.

"What _is _this?"

He was holding the next installment of Peeta's comic about Lady. To her and Prim's delight, Peeta was illustrating a nonsensical series of drawings centered around Prim's goat, and the young, love-struck shoat who pined for her. They were sweet and funny pieces. Lady lived up to her name, proper and delicate in the comics, and always drawn wearing the pink ribbon Katniss had described to him one afternoon. The young pig, undoubtedly inspired by the ones his family kept, was hopelessly clumsy, blundering in all his efforts to win her affections and shocking her outrageously with endless gaffes. Katniss especially liked that Buttercup, the bane of her existence, played the part of the villain. Prim was fully invested in Peeta's tale, and had taken to pasting each new segment carefully into the back of an old school notebook.

Katniss took a deep breath. There was no reason _not _to tell him, besides the certainty she felt that Gale wouldn't be accepting of her friendship with a merchant. She doubted he'd be willing to acknowledge Peeta's ability to captivate with words, pictures, and storytelling. He'd be unable to see how diverting, and happy, and carefree it was. Gale wouldn't understand how necessary she found it, or how much she appreciated that Peeta had extended the gift to Prim as well. Katniss loved that.

"It's from Peeta. Sometimes we...trade things," she ended lamely. Gale raised an eyebrow.

"Katniss, what are you playing at? This," he said, holding up the paper, "is just merchant malarkey, what could this possibly be worth?"

She pursed her lips and felt herself getting increasingly annoyed. It was the one thing in her world that wasn't strictly about survival. It was for enjoyment, just because, and as such, it was a luxury. It was something precious to her and it was none of Gale's business. He was acting like she was woefully inept and somehow being conned. Peeta wasn't like that, and she had been taking care of her family since she was eleven - she could handle her own affairs.

Katniss reached out and snatched it out of his hands, carefully pressing flat the crinkled sections where he'd gripped it. Prim would have her head if one of Peeta's comics went astray or got damaged.

"It's none of your concern, Gale," she insisted warningly, before turning back inside to leave the paper on the table.

"Is this what all the paints were for? So he could make you this nonsense?" Gale asked as soon as she'd returned.

Katniss pushed past him angrily, heading toward the meadow with purpose. "We're late," was her only response. He followed her after a moment with a frustrated sigh.

Mercifully, the tension between them rapidly eased. The heat was oppressive, so they decided to spend the day by her father's lake, fishing and gathering. She'd shown Gale the spot two years ago, right before her last Reaping. She'd gotten it into her head that someone needed to know of the lake's existence, in case she was sent to die, so her father's treasured discovery could continue on, in a sense. She knew it meant a lot to Gale that she had shown him, so Katniss suggested they return there in the hopes it would placate him somewhat.

And it did, for a while. They set the lines, and Katniss managed to shoot some waterfowl while Gale set a few simple snares in the tall grasses around the shoreline. The game here was less familiar with the presence of human predators and their traps, and the two quickly caught several rabbits. Katniss poked around in the dilapidated concrete shack while Gale started a fire by the lakeside to fry the first fish they'd caught. It was pleasant and relaxed, a wonderful change from the tense atmosphere that had hung between them lately. The sun was high and bright, and they sat on the bank and soaked it in, lazy and full of fish and berries.

They didn't need to talk, she thought, they were in perfect accord just like this. But after a few more moments, Gale sat up straighter, propping himself up on his elbows. Katniss cracked an eye open and watched him as he prepared to say something.

"This is what I mean Katniss. How good it is between us here. We could have this inside the fence, if only you'd let it happen."

Katniss looked out over the water, considering his words. She didn't agree. What they shared here was the feeling of freedom, the enjoyment of the forest's secrets and bounty, and the pleasure of relaxing with a full belly, breathing in air free from coal dust. They shared that, yes, but none of it could exist within Twelve. Everything they had here at the lake depended on existing outside the confines of Panem.

When they were behind the fence, it wasn't the same. The idyll was gone, and constant struggle against adversity took its place. She and Gale were experts in that area by now, and their responses were completely in sync: a grim, unflinching determination to survive any odds, families in tow.

But lately, she'd been starting to realize that the perspective she and Gale had on life in Twelve wasn't the entire picture. There could be more to daily existence than just surviving and thwarting the Capitol's restrictions. There could be enjoyment, and anticipation, surprise, and sometimes joy, even inside the fence. Sometimes the smallest things could be made special simply by stopping and observing them as such. Nonsense and imagination could actually take a person out of their surroundings, and beauty could be found or created with humble trappings. Such instances didn't occur easily or often, but they _could _exist, with the right outlook. And she couldn't ignore who'd recently reminded her of that.

Katniss had sought for years to preserve that sort of world for Prim, to give her little presents on key occasions, to make her feel special, and to maintain a positive facade. But since the death of her father, any small sense of optimism had felt like a performance, as though she was misleading Prim about how things really were in Twelve. Now, having someone go out of their way to brighten _her _days, Katniss' sense of hopefulness didn't feel quite so brittle.

When she tried to imagine sharing a life with Gale, she just…couldn't. She loved Gale, but not the way he wanted her to. Katniss knew it seemed like they'd make a decent pair for practical reasons, but she didn't want to marry anyone, let alone someone whose outlook was a mirror image of hers. There were other ways of seeing the world, ones that seemed beautiful for the ways in which they were different from her own, and she didn't want to lose sight of that. If anything, Gale was more stubbornly narrow-sighted in this matter than even she was. She refused to give up the little glimpse of the sun she'd found elsewhere.

Thinking his point made, Gale let the matter rest, getting up to check the snares one final time before they left. While Katniss gathered the fishing lines, she noticed her namesake blooming to her left. She smiled, thinking of her father. On a whim, Katniss decided to pick one of the blooms for Peeta, who'd only ever seen them in a book. She didn't want to get her feet wet right before walking all the way back to the fence, so she leaned over as far as she could from the bank, toward the flower of her choice. It was just out of reach.

She stretched further, to no avail, before Gale was suddenly at her side, pulling off his boots. "I'll get it for you Catnip," he said.

Katniss began to protest, but he was already rolling up his pant legs and wading into the marshy section of the lake.

"Was this the one you wanted?" he asked with a deferent smile.

"Well, yes, but…"

He presented the katniss blossom to her with a pleased flourish, and bent to gather his socks and hunting boots. She felt awful. He thought she'd wanted the flower for herself.

"But what?" He asked, looking up at her with a grin while he rolled down the cuffs of his trousers.

Katniss debated not telling him. Surely it was kinder to let him assume he'd done something nice for her, something touching and sweet. But it _wasn't_, she admonished herself, because she was letting him think he was making headway towards a future with them together. She couldn't keep avoiding the issue, it wasn't fair to him, and he'd only get more persistent. Plus, he'd just have to start getting used to her friendship with Peeta. It wasn't going anywhere, if she could help it.

"It's not for me. It's for Peeta," she admitted, looking him straight in the eye. Gale looked from her to his damp feet. He had nothing to towel them off with, and they didn't have time to sit and wait for them to fully dry if they wanted to get back in time to trade their game. He'd be walking back to Twelve with damp feet, and maybe several blisters for his trouble. And that had been fine. For Katniss. But certainly not _Peeta_.

When he looked back up at her, his face was as stormy as his namesake.

"Katniss, this has to stop. I don't know what it is you think you're doing, but I can't just wait forever while you play childish games with the baker's kid! I've been patient, I've given you time, I've barely said _anything_, but I'm in the mines every day, and if I want a family, I need to start one now! So just _tell _me, what do I still need to do for you to be ready? We're some of the last untoasted people our age in the Seam, did you know that?" he cried in exasperation.

Katniss stepped abruptly back from him, stumbling a bit as her foot caught on a rock, but he reached out and took her hands.

"We make so much sense, and there's no point in waiting - it would be easier for both our families to pool our resources as soon as possible." Gale paused and took a bracing breath. "You have to know how I feel about you, Katniss," he added softly. "I've felt this way for years."

Katniss shook her head in denial. She'd dreaded this moment for some time, and now it was here. Why had she never bothered to figure out what to say?

"You shouldn't. I don't- I'm never having children, Gale. I told you."

Gale's face melted into a mask of disbelief. "You can't still think that," he protested.

She squared her shoulders against his skepticism. "I do."

He disregarded her proclamation, launching into a host of arguments to convince her otherwise. He isolated her objections and systematically provided counter arguments. She'd expected nothing less, Gale was a strategist at heart. But he wasn't convincing her. She disagreed with most of what he said, and he couldn't change that, no matter how expertly he crafted his arguments. He would just have to realize that, sooner or later.

"Gale," she interrupted gently. "I'm not marrying you."

His shoulders slumped in defeat, but the longer he turned over her words, the more frustration gathered in his expression.

"You're saying that you'd rather watch everyone else move on with their lives and leave you behind, completely alone, than be with me?"

Katniss tried to tamp down on her irritation with his refusal to accept her answer. She reminded herself that she was hurting him, extinguishing hopes he'd held for several years. But she didn't appreciate his attempt to play to her fears, either. It seemed calculated, not to mention desperate. So she would give him the blunt truth. She wouldn't dress it up to soften the blow, nor would she needlessly belabor the point.

"Yes. That's what I'm saying."

Gale looked at her as though he couldn't truly believe it, and she held her ground, letting the truth of the answer show in her eyes. Despite aching for the pain she'd caused him, Katniss stood firm. As Gale stood there, she could see his temper flaring, covering up the parts he'd exposed and she'd rejected. He turned angrily and snatched up his half of the supplies they'd used that day, along with his hunting bag. As he strode past her, he scoffed, "I just hope you don't have any ridiculous notions regarding your baker boy. He's merchant, through and through, and he's only toying with you. So good luck with that."

She glared at his retreating form until he reached the tree line and stormed off through the greenery toward District Twelve. With a growl, she stomped back to the lake and began gathering up the rest of the supplies, furious. Gale's comment was unnecessary and uncalled for. Her rejection of him was motivated entirely by her own wishes; Peeta had nothing to do with it. Katniss doubly resented Gale's implication that the only choices open to her involved seeking out one male or another. She could survive just fine without anyone.

Not to mention, she was perfectly capable of determining whether she was being 'toyed' with. As if Peeta was the sort of person to do that, merchant or not. She snorted at the thought as she jammed everything into her game bag. While stamping out the last embers of Gale's fire, she found herself wishing his hot temper was as easily extinguished.

* * *

Katniss stepped onto the uneven stoop, and knocked impatiently. As the door creaked open, she stretched her neck, peering over the head of the person who greeted her to peek into the dim interior of the house. She couldn't see anything. She gave up and looked at the person in front of her.

"Hi Katniss," the third Hawthorne boy said, with the awkward voice of a boy going through puberty.

"Hi Vick. I'm here to see Gale," she said determinedly.

"Oh, uh, he's at the Hob."

"You told me this morning he was too sick to go hunting."

"H-he was, but he, um, got better," Vick stammered nervously.

The Hawthornes were like family, and Katniss knew when Vick was lying. Gale had avoided her for three Sundays, pleading illness, yet none of the Hawthornes had come to her mother asking for medicine.

"I know he's in there Vick, and I'm going to see him," she insisted, taking a menacing step forward.

Gale couldn't avoid her and the forest forever, and she intended to tell him so. Despite their disagreement and her refusal of him, Gale was still her hunting partner, and her friend. Plus, she knew he needed the food. It was time for the stubborn, eldest Hawthorne boy to let bygones be bygones and come out hunting again. She missed him.

"He isn't here Katniss, I swear! He went out a coupla' hours ago."

She grimaced. "Well is he really at the Hob? Or did he just tell you to say that?"

Vick shrugged, eyes wide. "I dunno. That's where he said he was goin.'"

"Fine," she sighed. "Here's his cut of the trades. Be sure you give that to your mother right away. And if you see Gale before I do, tell him he can't keep ignoring his snare line. Or his hunting partner, for that matter."

Vick nodded, and closed the door as she walked away. It looked like she was going back to the Hob. Katniss had just been there trading, and she hadn't seen Gale. But perhaps he'd managed to steer clear of her while she was there. It wouldn't be hard, it was bustling this time of day, and one could easily be obscured in the rows and rows of vendors.

Since it used to be a coal storage facility, the Hob was located between the mines and the train station, and the alley leading up to it was visible from the train platform. On a Sunday, when trains were few and far between, Katniss never would have expected to hear someone calling her name from around the railroad tracks, but she did.

"Katniss!"

Her head darted to the left as she scanned the area. She didn't like to be seen entering the Hob by merchants, and it had sounded like Peeta's voice. Sure enough, Katniss soon caught sight of his blond hair, impossible to miss in all the gray, as he trundled down the platform steps and jogged over to her.

"Hi," he said upon reaching her.

"Um, hi," she answered. Katniss wondered how to explain her presence. The existence of the Hob was the Seam's worst-kept secret, but its exact location was likely unknown to most merchants, who had no cause to go there. As a regular at the Hob, was she supposed to keep its whereabouts secret from merchants?

"What are you doing all the way out here?" he asked with a smile, as if it was a treat to discover her in unexpected places. Katniss inwardly groaned. Of course it would be his first question.

"What are _you _doing all the way out here?" she challenged.

"I just finished my deliveries, so I was checking the train platform to see if my missing package turned up. I finally convinced my dad to order malted grain to try in baking, but it's missing from our shipment," he explained.

Peeta went on to describe how malt could increase the performance of yeast and add a sweet note to certain baked goods in place of costly sugar. He was eager to experiment with it, but Mr. Mellark was very hesitant to test new recipes, and Mrs. Mellark was even less likely to approve an added expense without the guarantee of profit. But he'd worn them down, and he'd been anticipating this delivery for a month.

"And now it's missing," he sighed sadly. "I already checked the platform three times, after I noticed it wasn't with the rest of the supplies yesterday. I keep hoping someone will realize they took the wrong package and return it here."

In District Twelve? Katniss doubted it. There wasn't a soul alive in the town or the Seam who couldn't do with extra grain, except maybe the town drunk and sole Victor, Haymitch. He was loaded. In more ways than one, she thought to herself.

But she hated to see Peeta disappointed. This obviously meant a lot to him, if he was anxious to expound on yeast production to anyone who would listen. And to her surprise, she could help. It just depended on whether she was willing to reveal another aspect of her illegal activities to him.

Katniss thought about how animated he'd been when talking about his plans for the malt, how he'd blushed sheepishly after realizing the length and enthusiasm of his discourse. Even now, he kept glancing at her from the corners of his eyes to see if she was laughing at his passion for malted grain.

Of course she was going to help him.

"I know where you can get malt. Cheaply, too." she said, grabbing the cuff of his shirt to lead him toward the Hob.

As they walked past other derelict warehouses, the mine shaft entrances and the slag heap to their distant right, Katniss decided she'd just try to get Peeta in and out before she located Gale. It would be easiest if Gale didn't see her showing Peeta the Hob. That would _not _go over well, and it would be even longer before she got Gale back into the forest. It was a large space and Sunday was its busiest day, with all the miners off for the day. Gale wouldn't be at the stall they were headed towards anyway.

Peeta seemed quite amazed by the Hob. This surprised Katniss a little, as she'd always imagined merchants turning their noses up at the thought of black market goods. His sensibilities clearly weren't offended, because before she could so much as direct him to the right area, he was off exploring, poring over the wares offered by every vendor. Her cheeks pinkened a little as she trailed behind, noting the looks of surprise, curiosity, and even downright suspicion that his presence garnered. His light hair and fair skin stood out like a sore thumb, and Katniss suddenly felt self conscious about bringing him here. Besides the Peacekeepers that everyone pretended _not _to see patronizing the Hob, people who didn't look "Seam" were a definite rarity.

As Peeta swept from stand to stand, engaging with any vendors who were willing, her eyes nervously darted about, seeking Gale. But he was nowhere to be found. Several vendors eagerly tried to sell Peeta something, but most just eyed him with distrust. Still, there were few that didn't soften at least a little toward him after his eager greeting and winsome smile. Seeing he had a Seam chaperone shadowing him also seemed to be a placating factor.

After he'd explored a bit, Katniss decided it was time to move along. She drew up to his side, but he was so engrossed in a conversation with Stella, the Seam's purveyor of crude but durable cookware, that he seemed not to notice her. At this rate, it would be a wonder if they'd ever reach her intended destination. She touched his arm to alert him to her presence, and as soon as she'd laid her hand on his forearm, Katniss found she had his full attention. He turned partially, and Katniss realized how close they were. She took an awkward little step back, giving him room to fully face her. Before leading him away, she glanced back at Stella, who was watching them with interest.

Katniss brought Peeta to Ripper's stall, where there always seemed to be at least one customer. At the moment, it was the woman's most faithful patron, and probably the person most responsible for the survival of her and her clan. Haymitch was struggling to carry an armful of white liquor bottles away from the stand - far more than any one man should attempt, especially while swaying back and forth.

Katniss jumped out of his way as he staggered in her direction. Tributes from Twelve had done abominably in the Games under Haymitch's mentorship, even considering their humble origins. Everyone knew he departed for the Games drunk every year, and there was a lot of speculation he stayed that way throughout, to the misfortune of Twelve's unlucky tributes.

Some said Haymitch was wily, but his sobriety, or lack thereof, was often cited as a reason for the abysmal lack of sponsorship. Few people bet on the outliers, but there were still risk-takers in the Capitol willing to take a long shot on unlikely districts. Every Games, there were at least a couple of underdogs from the poorer districts who looked slightly promising and got a few tentative sponsors. But even when the tributes from Twelve had the barest glimmer of hope, there were no sponsors to be had.

When Katniss saw Haymitch, she'd always looked at the mentor with a mixture of feelings: sadness, pity, discomfort, annoyance, and embarrassment on his behalf. But as the years went by and the children reaped continued to be slaughtered, with no indication that he'd done much of anything to secure sponsors, even for the promising tributes, her feelings quickly shifted toward anger, resentment, and disgust.

She glared at him with a gimlet eye. Peeta moved to steady him, helping to secure several precariously balanced bottles.

"What're you lookin' at?" Haymitch snarled at her.

"Two more pine boxes in the making," she retorted.

Peeta gaped at her in shock. Even Haymitch seemed somewhat floored; no one talked to him like that, if at all.

"Well aren't you just a regular _sweetheart_," he sneered at Katniss, before turning to Peeta.

"She drivin' ya to drink, boy?" he asked, continuing even before Peeta could answer. "Yeah, I don't doubt it."

"Give 'im one on me, Ripper," he called over his shoulder, before turning back to face them. Seeing the look of defiant anger painted across Katniss' face, he amended, "better make that two: one for her spunk, and one for all that _charm_."

He looked at her appraisingly. "The little lambs sent to the Capitol can't all be like you, girlie. Maybe you shoulda been reaped. Now that, I could have worked with."

Katniss spluttered indignantly as the old victor shoved blithely past. She hesitated for a minute, debating whether to catch up with him and say more, but Peeta put a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention. He was standing calmly at her side, and it helped her settle down and focus once more on their purpose.

"It's okay, Katniss. Come on,"

She nodded and they turned to Ripper.

"Try not to drive off my best customer, eh Katniss?" the hardy woman jabbed.

"Well, I'm bringing you a new customer. This is Peeta Mellark, and he needs malted grain for baking." Peeta reached over to shake Ripper's remaining hand.

"Malted grain, huh?" Ripper said, "Yeah, I've got some. Cray's got an arrangement with the folks who load the train in Nine, so I can get malt and specially make him beer, the greedy bastard. But I don't have it here, I do my distilling at home. What'll you give me for some?"

"Well, I don't have much money, but I'll give you what I do have-"

"You're a baker, ain't ya? Give me some bread, then."

Katniss smiled a little as Peeta and Ripper came to an agreement. He didn't need much, so he would bring her two loaves from the first batch of bread baked with the malt. He may not _look _like he fit in, but Peeta took to the people of the Hob like a fish to water.

Haymitch had almost completely bought out her stock, so Ripper didn't mind locking up the rest of her wares in the heavy old cabinet she kept at her stand and going home to get some malted barley. Katniss and Peeta waited while she did.

Since Gale clearly wasn't around, Katniss didn't mind letting Peeta explore the Hob some more. As they moved along, Peeta turned to her. "What smells so good?"

Katniss sniffed the air. "Wild dog soup." His eyes widened in interest.

"Is it any good?" he asked.

She shrugged. It was as good as anything she made at home. Katniss didn't know what Peeta was used to eating, but it likely wasn't that much fancier, if they relied on her squirrel meat each week. "Sure, I guess."

"Do you like it?" he prompted. Katniss nodded.

"Will you have some with me then? I got a tip from my delivery to the mayor's house, and I can't thank you enough for bringing me to Ripper for the malt."

Katniss paused, waiting to feel discomfort or agitation at his offer to share a meal. It didn't come. Instead, it sounded…nice.

"I'd really like to try some, and it would be a great way to pass the time until Ripper gets back," Peeta said convincingly.

She looked back up at him with a tentative smile. "Okay."

Soon, they sat on crates outside the Hob, leaning up against the corrugated metal of the structure as they watched dusk settle in. Katniss and Peeta each had a bowl of stew balancing on one knee, and a small slice of bread on the other.

Peeta kept the conversation going, never seeming to run out of pleasantly upbeat things to talk about, and Katniss felt herself becoming more and more comfortable. She was enjoying herself.

She ate the bread and soup separately, to prolong the meal and give her stomach the illusion of there being more food. Peeta dipped his bread into the stew, chewing thoughtfully as he considered the way it paired with the bread.

"This is great. I've never had wild dog before."

She chuckled as she chased an unidentified vegetable around the bowl with her spoon. That was the third time Peeta had expressed delight with Greasy Sae's cooking. She wished the old woman was in the vicinity to hear it.

"Maybe I'll have to start bringing some to trade," Katniss teased, "Now that I know how much you like it, I can inflate the price."

"Oh, I'd pay," he assured, with exaggerated surety.

"The grain in this bread needs some work, though," he continued. "It's hard and not milled very well. What kind is it?"

Her spoon froze, and she looked at him for confirmation. There was only genuine curiosity in his face.

"It's tessera grain. You've never once had it, have you?" She should have known, he was merchant, after all. But still, it was hard to believe that he'd never so much as _tried _it.

"Oh." Peeta swallowed and looked abashed. "I'm so sorry, Katniss. I…didn't mean anything by it."

Katniss turned back to her bowl, finishing off the broth as an uncomfortable silence settled heavily over them. He hadn't intended anything by it, she told herself. He was from a family of bakers, bread quality for him was what marksmanship was to her. But still, she felt embarrassed for Sae, herself, and everyone else in the Seam who ate or made bread from tessera grain. She'd felt so close with him just a moment ago, but now it felt as though a gaping chasm had yawned open, creating an unassailable distance between them.

Peeta hastened to explain himself further. "I didn't know, I'm sorry. I've-"

"You've never had it before, so you had no idea," she finished for him, with a sigh. He would just make it worse if he kept apologizing. It wasn't his fault the Capitol bartered with the Seam for children's lives.

"Sae can charge more for her stew if it comes with a piece of bread," she explained. "But she can't take out tesserae on her own, of course, and her granddaughter's still too young. That's the second cruelty about tesserae, you know, only people with children get the assistance, so you're more likely to survive as an adult if you pop out a bunch of kids to apply for extra grain and oil. Then the Capitol has more fodder for the Games, and more workers for the mines," Katniss said sadly. "Anyways, if someone wants money instead of the food, they can sell some of their grain to Greasy Sae. It's quite common when a parent has a gambling or drinking problem. They add their children's names to the reaping bowl so they can sell grain to Sae each month, and then they get the money to feed their habit."

She looked over at him. He was staring at the ground, troubled. This would undoubtedly be the last of him talking to her outside of trading, she thought bitterly. Who wanted to be reminded of how hopeless life was in Panem? As if he could forget. But she couldn't pretend it was otherwise.

Movement a little ways down the street captured her attention, and she wondered if it was Ripper heading their way. But soon she saw it was a young couple. They'd just left the alley that led to the slag heap, and they were leaning on each other heavily. Katniss instantly bristled as she recognized them, her spoon clattering into her empty bowl. It was Gale and Leevy. She was looking up into his eyes adoringly, and Gale wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they headed off in the direction of the Seam.

A bevy of feelings crashed down on Katniss all at once. Most of all, she was incensed that he'd lied to her about being sick, and to Vick about being at the Hob. She'd given his family half her game and earnings for the last three Sundays, and here he was, fooling around at the slag heap instead of out hunting. He could have at least told her he wouldn't be able to hunt because he'd be out wooing Leevy. She glared daggers at their retreating forms and huffed in irritation. She was furious with Gale, but she was also jealous that Leevy so easily monopolized his entire day off, above her, his hunting partner and friend, and even his own family.

And suddenly, Katniss felt inexplicably sad. Gale was drifting away from her now, just as he'd said everyone would. Only three weeks later, and it was already happening.

Someone took her hand, and she blinked back into focus. Peeta was leaning over from his crate, soup and bread forgotten, as he cradled her hand in his palm, gently rubbing his thumb over her knuckles and across the tops of her fingers.

All sensation in her body suddenly relocated to that single area. It felt amazing. Katniss dragged her eyes up to his, still completely concentrated on the soft movements of Peeta's finger over hers.

"Are you okay?" he asked, expression full of concern.

"Huh?" Did he think her hand was hurt? Was he asking if she liked what he was doing, because if so-

Peeta cut his eyes in Gale and Leevy's direction for explanation. She followed his gaze.

Oh. Right. "I'm fine. I just don't appreciate being lied to," she bit out.

His fingers curled into hers and she drew a shaky breath as she gathered herself enough to elaborate.

"We have a long-standing arrangement on Sundays. But it looks like he's found more pressing concerns," Katniss said with sarcasm.

Peeta slid his other hand over hers, encapsulating it between the heavy warmth of his calloused palms. She felt her stomach fill with a pleasing sensation.

"Is that why you were here? To meet Gale?" His voice was pained.

Katniss nodded dumbly, wondering how Peeta knew she'd been searching for her hunting partner when he'd spotted her from the platform.

"Time will help Katniss. You deserve so much better."

She furrowed her brows, puzzled. She and Gale would only get _more _distant with time, not less. And there was no better hunting partner, not in the whole district. She looked back up from their clasped hands.

"Wait, do you think… Me and Gale? Together, like…_together_?" She wasn't good at saying some things, but Peeta caught her meaning.

"Well, yeah. He's been really proprietary of you lately when you trade, and you looked so sad just now, I thought-"

"You thought our Sunday arrangement was at the _slag heap!_" she realized, her voice laced with disbelief.

"But didn't you just _say _that?" Peeta asked agitatedly. "That you two arrange to meet here every Sunday, and you're here to see Gale? Then he waltzes off from that exact location!"

It was too much. Katniss burst out laughing, and Peeta looked utterly confused, which tickled her even further. It was such a wild notion that she began laughing anew each time she considered it. If she needed a place to secretly meet Gale, why wouldn't she just go to the forest? And Peeta knew they spent their Sundays there, since he traded with them each afternoon. It was utter nonsense. Her amusement must have been contagious, because eventually Peeta joined in, chuckling more and more as he considered the ridiculous scenario his mind had leaped to.

This was how Ripper found them, snickering and giggling outside the Hob, Katniss wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Here ya go, Mellark," she said, handing him a small sack of malted barley. "You can deliver the bread to my stand when you've made it." She watched while Katniss slumped against the wall behind her in exhaustion, her mirth gradually subsiding.

"Now that's a sight you don't see every day." And with that, Ripper walked back into the Hob. The two got to their feet, and Katniss stooped to collect their bowls and spoons, which would have to be returned to Greasy Sae. Now that her amusement had abated, the reality of Gale's involvement with Leevy was back on her mind.

She straightened up to find Peeta's eyes on her, a small smile gracing his lips. She gave a little smile in return as she remembered the feel of his hands around hers. Peeta was always pulling smiles from her she didn't know she had.

"Thank you for finding me malt, Katniss. And for eating with me. It was wonderful to see this part of your life," Peeta said, looking at the building behind her. "It's an exciting place. I enjoyed every minute."

Katniss was shocked to hear he'd enjoyed their time together. She'd spent half the time looking for Gale, and the other half either rushing him past stands or getting into arguments with drunken victors. Not to mention the whole awkwardness surrounding Sae's bread and then Gale and Leevy's appearance.

"But I nearly traded blows with Haymitch and spent a good ten minutes laughing at you," she pointed out.

"I know. But I'll greedily take any time you're willing to give me, Katniss. Whether it's a smile as you hand over a squirrel at my door or a stroll through Twelve's black market, I'll gladly be there, if it's with you."

Peeta reached between them and took up her free hand in his own. He gave her fingers a light squeeze, and said with a smile, "Have a good rest of the evening, Katniss," before turning and heading toward town. The orange of the sunset seeped below the horizon as he walked away.

When she got home, Katniss didn't even remember bringing the bowls and spoons back inside.

* * *

As ever, thank you for reading, I hope this one was enjoyable!

I am so grateful to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed here, and liked/reblogged/or messaged me about it on tumblr - you guys are wonderful and so generous, and the encouragement was a huge motivating force in finally finishing the chapter.

I got a lot of new readers in the last week, and if someone's mention or rec of this fic was responsible, I'd like to give you a big thank you! Many thanks also go to Mejhiren, for her feedback, astute observations, and brilliant predictions.

I'd like to give a shout-out to Prizz on AO3 - your mention of Katniss needing a new hair tie in your review inspired the entire beginning of the chapter, and helped me get the ball rolling with Gale and Katniss!

Though not a huge part of the chapter, I hope Katniss' reaction to Haymitch was understandable. I see Haymitch getting much worse as a mentor as years pass and nothing changes, and I think Katniss would lack most of the compassion she had when she was put in similar shoes. Though she wasn't entirely fair in her summation of him, there is canonical evidence that Haymitch normally stays drunk through the games, doesn't pursue sponsors, and is a lackluster mentor at best, before the turning point with Katniss volunteering. I don't think she'd be very sympathetic as the years pass.

Lastly, I hope you'll consider reviewing. :) (And if you prefer shorter, uniform chapters, like the previous two, to this long one, feel free to let me know!) I'm GhtlovesThg on tumblr. Sometimes I put up teasers for future chapters there.


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